


before i knew you

by Dylanobrienisbatman



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 3+1, Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Party, Co-workers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Office Party, Pen Pals, Secret Identity, Surprise Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28377900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dylanobrienisbatman/pseuds/Dylanobrienisbatman
Summary: What do you do when your penpal, the person you know the best in the world, who you love, turns out to be the rather rude (if also rather pretty) sales girl from downstairs?Lexa is about to find out.or - 3 times lexa and clarke meet without knowing they've been penpals since childhood, and the 1 time Lexa figures it out.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 12
Kudos: 189
Collections: TROPED: Holiday Trope Exchange 2.0





	before i knew you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DialedIn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DialedIn/gifts).



> This fic was written for the Chopped Holiday Trope Exchange!! My tropes were: 
> 
> 1\. 3 + 1/4 + 1/etc (I chose - 3 times clarke and lexa meet when they don't know they're penpals, and one time lexa figures it out -)   
> 2\. penpals   
> 3\. surprise kiss  
> 4\. character meets another characters ex 
> 
> I hope you like it!!

Lexa’s day hadn’t started off great. She got toothpaste on her blouse before she even left for work, and nothing else she tried on felt quite right, and then her coffee order was wrong, but she didn’t even notice until she was halfway to work. Her boss had called her in for a meeting, picking apart her latest proposal with a fine tooth comb. She had sworn it was great, but seeing it in tatters sure as hell didn’t make her feel that way. And then, there were onions in her salad, which she hated, and had specifically asked not to have. A hundred little things, just piling on. 

So when she received a proposal for a buy that oversold the business by almost 300% of their actual value, she had no patience for an overly sanguine, idealistic sales rep. 

When Clarke Griffin walked in, Lexa felt herself pause. She was  _ pretty _ , and Lexa had never been overly good at speaking to pretty girls. Her hair was shiny and golden, falling in loose waves down her back, and her smile was bright and warm. 

However, she had no trouble getting her voice back when Clarke revealed herself to not only be idealistic, but also annoying. She basically refused to listen to a word Lexa had to say. 

“You cannot promise them this amount, it’s absurd.” 

“Oh, so it’s  _ absurd _ to believe in a small business?”

“No, it’s  _ absurd _ to promise an artisanal nut butter company $1.2 million when their current worth is under $500,000.” 

“Well, we should buy them for more than their worth!”

“NOT THREE TIMES WHAT THEY’RE WORTH.”

The sales rep, Clarke Griffin, seemed to almost growl at her, both of them radiating rage and fury. 

“All you care about is  _ numbers _ . You have no concept of what it’s like working with the actual clients. We have to promise them the world, it’s how we get them to sign with us.” 

“Well, have fun with a lawsuit when we can’t deliver on this promise, because it’s absolutely asinine, and they come looking for recompense because of  _ you _ .” 

“They know I was overselling them, they won’t do that.” Lexa couldn’t help herself, scoffing and rolling her eyes. 

“Oh no, because you’re so  _ nice  _ to them, so  _ kind _ , they’d never dream of seeking out what they were actually promised when we can’t make good. No, no that’s just insane. It’s not like we have an entire sector of our legal department dedicated to exactly those types of claims or anything.” 

Clarke was fuming, but Lexa felt oddly powerful. Without another word, mostly because it seemed like she had no response, she got up to leave Lexa’s office. 

“Make the alterations. I was handed this by my superiors to deal with, and if you don’t, someone else will get this portfolio. We will not allow you to put the company at risk because you’re too wrapped up in being someone’s fairy godmother to see what you’re doing could have actual consequences.” 

Without another word, Clarke stormed out, and Lexa was left feeling very slightly better about her shitty day, if only because she had been able to take it out on someone who kind of deserved it. The portfolio, with an amended sales price, was left in her box later that afternoon, without a word. 

She fumed all the way home, too. Iealistic and irritating sales reps always got her heated. She had no idea how they all got so fucking cocky. They thought they could promise the moon and stars to anyone and everyone, and that there would be no fallout! As if all that mattered was making the sale, the rules and regulations, the  _ law _ , be damned. They made her job harder, for sure, but they also just  _ annoyed _ her. 

Her day brightened, though, when she checked her mail and found a letter. 

She laid it on her counter, changing out of her suit, and ordering dinner before she carefully opened the pretty pink envelope, complete with a silver wax seal. 

_ Alycia, _

Every letter, she still smiled at that. 

In the 6th grade, her language arts teacher had given them an assignment. She had paired up with a teacher from another school, and they would be getting pen pals. They each made a pseudonym, and throughout the year they would write letters back and forth. Her pen pal, though, had become a fast friend, always seeming to like the same things she liked, with funny jokes, and one time she had even sent her a friendship bracelet, that still hung on Lexa’s jewelry tree to this day. They had stayed in contact, solely through letters, solely as their 6th grade pseudonyms, even all these years later. There was something about a complete stranger who had a fully objective point of view on her life, but who also knew her better than most of her real life friends, that Lexa couldn’t bear to part with. 

Thankfully, her pen pal,  _ Eliza  _ felt the same. 

Thankfully, because somehow, a stranger, a person she had never met and likely never would, had become her closest confidant. 

Thankfully, because Lexa felt she compared every person she knew to this person who came to life in these letters. 

Thankfully, because Lexa rather thought she loved the person made only of paper and ink. 

_ Eliza _ gave her a few song recommendations, a little life advice, and shared a few stories of her own, her scrawling writing somehow familiar and still hard to peace at times. It was a reassuring comfort; a little thing that never changed. She set the letter on her desk, a reminder to respond as soon as she could, her irritating meeting with an annoying sales rep a distant memory. 

It came rushing back the next day, however, when she wandered into the employee locker room at the end of the day only to overhear a heated conversation. 

“She was so…  _ smug. _ ” 

“Oh I’m sure she was, they’re all like that.” 

“‘Make the adjustments or someone else will’ what does she even know?” 

“Nothing!” 

“Exactly!! Nothing!! She’s never worked with a client the way we do! She has no idea what it takes! She thinks she knows  _ everything!!” _

“I mean honestly, she wouldn’t last a day in your job.” 

“All she does is staunch the creative spirit of the people who  _ actually  _ keep this company afloat.” 

At that she rounded the corner to find Clarke and a woman she knew vaguely as Octavia leaning against the sinks. Clarke’s face was red with rage, and Octavia was nodding along furiously. 

She cleared her throat delicately, and reveled in their expressions of shock and horror. 

“Oh I was just getting my bag, don’t mind me. I wasn’t planning to ‘staunch your creativity’ today, but since that’s all I do all day long I better get right to it.” 

Clarke, to her credit, looked sheepish and embarrassed, but Lexa wasn’t about to stop now. 

“You  _ sales _ people seem to think this company exists solely to please you and your ‘creative’ urges. This is a _ business.  _ We have to run it like a business, or your  _ creative spirit  _ can get exercised as a starving artist.” 

She took a breath, and the girls went to open their mouth, but she raised a hand. 

“I’m not really interested. I’ve had a long day. Have a nice evening.” She snatched her bag from her locker, slamming it shut, and stormed out. 

She got home that night and furiously wrote a letter. 

_ Eliza, _

A breath. She felt calmer already. 

She hadn’t meant to turn the letter into an outlet for her fury at a certain blonde sales woman, but before she realised she’d written a whole page. They never gave too many details, intentionally trying to maintain some level of anonymity, but that didn’t stop her from ranting. Ranting about people who refused to see reason, or logic, who refused to follow the rules. Ranting about people who failed to understand that their lives didn’t just work out in their favour without any intervention, that there were constructs, rules, and carefully maintained systems in place that allowed people like  _ her  _ to make absurd offers to clients without consequence. 

She placed the letter in a pretty envelope, a new set she’d found that were decorated with watercolor vines, used her gold wax for a seal, and slipped the letter in the mailbox that night before going to bed. 

The next morning, she went in for the 5:30 time slot with her boxing trainer, and took out the rest of her rage on the bag. 

And on her trainer, Echo, who was also her best friend. 

“I am so ” her spit flew through her mouth guard, ranting as she spared, sweat dripping down her neck and her brow, “so fucking tired of it.” 

“This one seems to have gotten under your skin more than most of these flighty little sales girls.” Echo swung hard, and Lexa blocked the punch just in time. She swung back, increasing the distance between them to give her room for her next combo. 

“She’s more obnoxious than most.” 

“Is she, or are you just over the whole thing?” Lexa’s fist made contact with Echo’s side, but Echo seemed to move right through it, throwing two more, the last connecting with the edge of Lexa’s cheekbone. “Better be careful, wouldn’t want that pretty face all scuffed.” She teased. 

“Ha Ha.” Lexa stepped back, taking out her mouth guard to spit into a bucket in the corner and grabbing some water before she stepped back into the ring. “Over the whole thing? You mean my job?” 

“Yeah, you never wanted to stay in this field long term, you told yourself it was only a few years, and here we are, 5 years after you graduated law school, and you have made no attempts to find something else. And now, a particularly irritating sales girl has you all worked up? It’s no surprise why.” 

“Just shut up and fight.” Lexa clipped in lieu of a response to Echo’s very digging remarks. She set her mouth guard, and went back in hard. 

A little too hard, as she came out with a bloodied nose and a bruise blooming around her right eye after refusing to back down when her rage caught up with her. 

“I’m sorry Lex, I didn’t mean t-”

“Honestly, E, it’s fine.” She reassured her friend, who looked on, horrified, as she pulled a bloodied tissue away to replace it “I needed someone to knock some sense into me. You tried with words, and when that didn’t work, you resorted to the only other alternative.” 

“I was being serious, you know.” Echo reached out and grabbed her hand. “Start looking for a job that will make you happy, I hate seeing you like this.” 

The walk to her office was quiet, the city not yet fully awake as she wound through the streets at 6:45am, just the way she liked it. The crisp late November air, the smell of the leaves, fallen across the pavement, the way the morning light had just begun to break over the horizon, peaking through the buildings. It was calm, and the quiet helped her to mull over Echo’s advice in her head as she arrived at her office. 

_ “Or are you just over this whole thing?”  _

Was she? Nothing Clarke had done was particularly out of the ordinary. She dealt with overly confident sales reps a thousand times. She had certainly dealt with people saying far worse about her than what she overheard in the bathroom. She felt a sense of calm as she walked through the building toward her office, considering the idea. Her newest project, a strategy for a senior sales associate to sway a less than eager client, had been dancing around in her head for days. She was never not excited for the actual work she got to do. She was definitely over being treated like she didn’t matter to these sales reps, but not so much that it overshadowed the rest of her job. So what was it about Clarke Griffin that had gotten so under her skin? She tried and failed to put the question out of her mind as she settled in to work. 

She had been working for almost an hour when a sudden and unexpected sneeze broke her out of her head, mostly because it  _ hurt _ . She reached her hand up to touch her tender nose, only to catch a few drops of blood before the joined the ones who seemed to have already found their way onto her stark white blouse. 

Fuck. 

She texted Costia, asking her to swing by the office with a fresh shirt, and headed to the bathroom to clean herself up. Costia was 20 minutes away and her nose was still dripping into the sink, her lips and chin covered in blood, when Clarke Griffin walked into the bathroom. 

They both froze for a second, and she watched Clarke contemplate just turning and walking away, but she didn’t. Instead, Clarke’s face was awash with concern, suddenly, and she walked over, grabbing Lexa by the chin and lifting her face to the light. 

“What are you  _ doing _ ?” She snarled, trying to pull away, but Clarke held her chin firm. 

“My mother is a doctor, and I learned a lot from her as a kid. Your eye is starting to swell up, which means this happened at least a little while ago, so why is your nose still bleeding?” 

“I sneezed, it’s no big deal.” 

“‘ _ No big deal’ _ ” She scoffed, “you’re literally covered in your own blood.” Without another word, Clarke tipped her head back and made her pinch her nose before walking over to her locker and pulling out a folded washrag. She grabbed some tissues and came back, helping Lexa to fit them into her nostrils to help staunch the bleeding. She wet the washrag with warm water before taking Lexa’s chin in her hands again and beginning to delicately wipe away the blood from her face. 

She winced a little at first, as Clarke gently brushed away the crusted blood from her chin, the warm water and soft cloth breaking it up and sending it down the drain as she rinsed it away, but her gentle touch was eventually soothing against her tender skin. Clarke’s eyes were a radiant blue, Lexa noticed, as Clarke held her face between her hands to study her eye, recommending a cold compress to soothe the swelling. She bit at her bottom lip and knit her eyebrows together as she focused. Clarke brushed her finger over the bruises on her cheekbone, and Lexa felt her breath catch in her throat. 

“Looks like you’ll live, but definitely put something on that eye.” 

“Oh I’m so relieved.” Lexa straightened herself up, trying to avoid Clarke’s gaze, but it wasn’t working. Her false bravado was failing by the second. 

“Are you?” Lexa shot her a look, and she raised her hands in submission. “Just saying, a black eye and bloody nose before 8am certainly begs many questions.” She was wiping away a little smear of blood from a tiny cut on her eyebrow, her free hand resting against the back of Lexa's neck, holding her head in place. 

“Buy me a drink first and maybe I’ll answer a few.” 

“Maybe I will.” Clarke retorted before Lexa could question her words, and Lexa’s mouth was suddenly dry as Clarke’s hand stilled on her, but she didn’t pull away, and Lexa didn’t either. The bathroom suddenly felt unbearably warm, as Clarke’s hand lingered on her cheek, her eyes glancing down at her lips once, twice, and then-

“Lex, please tell me you were just sparring and this wasn’t you deciding to become a vigilante for some reason.” Costia’s voice echoed across the tile, and the gaping void left when Clarke stepped back was freezing. Costia pulled a blouse out her bag, unaware of the tension that was dissipating by the second. “By the way, your apartment is a disaster. I’m seriously beginning to think I should just start showing up and cleaning, or I might come by one day and find you buried under it all.” Clarke was glancing between the two of them, the softness that had come shining out of the crack in her armor fading as she seemed to press the broken pieces back together by sheer force of will. “Jesus, Lex, what the hell happened to your eye!” 

“Don’t worry about it, Clarke patched me up.” 

“Clarke?” Lexa pointed, and Costia turned to find Clarke standing uncomfortable a few feet away. “Clarke, this is my ex-girlfriend, Costia. Costia this is my… friend… Clarke.” 

“So nice to meet you, especially since I had no idea Lexa had work friends.” 

“We’re new friends, so I won’t be offended that she hasn’t mentioned me.” 

“I doubt she’d fail to mention you.” Costia was flirting now, just a touch, and Lexa felt like a mortified elementary schooler with an embarrassing parent. 

“Costia.” She hissed, and it seemed to only egg Costia on because she winked. “Costia, my eye hurts.” She said, and instantly the warmth she knew would come was surrounding her, Costia effectively distracted from her taunting of Lexa to tend to her instead, fussing with her face like a worried mother, scolding her for playing too rough, and Lexa watched over her shoulder as Clarke backed away and out of the bathroom without another word. 

Costia coerced her to come get a coffee and take a break (“your face was bleeding, they can spare you for another 20 minutes”), and she let Lexa complain about her work week, but the words felt rehearsed, and hollow. Something… something had happened in that bathroom, with Clarke. She didn’t understand it, it was like the energy between them had turned on a dime, and now it was barrelling towards some new unknown destination. Her complaints about Clarke still rung true, but like they were ringing from a distance. 

The day seemed to pass in a blur, and when she got home, she didn’t remember to check her mail until late into the evening, when she was already half a bottle of wine in. The letter was on the top of the pile in her mailbox,  _ Eliza’s _ loopy scrawl making her heart flutter. 

_ Alycia,  _

_ It was so good to hear from you again so soon, I wasn’t expecting a letter for another few weeks. Not much has changed in the last week or so, but I’m so sorry about your troubles at work. I’m having some of my own, so maybe we can help each other. I’ve got this colleague, she thinks she knows more than everyone else, always, and it’s exhausting. It’s beginning to infringe on my work, keeping me from accomplishing my goals, and I don’t know how to reason with someone who refuses to look past the rule book? Any advice?  _

_ As for your current predicament, it sounds like the girl you’ve got trouble with is more of a free spirit than you, at least when it comes to the job. Who knows, what she says might hold some value. Innovation, creative thinking, those are the energies that push the world forward! Try a different approach, maybe discuss options instead of slamming your foot down the second you feel like it’s getting out of your control?  _

_ I’ve noticed myself thinking more about you and your letters recently. Maybe it’s the holiday’s, thinking about family and all that, but your words and your presence, no matter how intangible, feels like the most solid thing I’ve got in my life. I still haven’t called my mom. I know, I know, you said I should, but I just can’t face it yet. Looks like you’ll just have to keep pushing me.  _

_ Your friend,  _

_ Eliza _

She read the letter once, twice, three times, and then held it up to her nose to smell the must of the paper and the subtle lingering bits of perfume that always seemed to cling to the page. She let her body go limp, flopping over onto her side, the letter tucked under her cheek. 

_ I’ve noticed myself thinking more about you…  _

The wine and the butterflies danced in her belly. 

She’d be lying to herself if she couldn’t admit she thought of  _ Eliza  _ all the time. Wondered what she’d say anytime she was in a conversation, imagining her laugh mixed with the crowd when she told a joke well, thought about the smell of her perfume right when she’d open a letter would cling to her nostrils for hours, leaving her a remembrance of a stranger. Wondered what she was like, outside of pen and page. Wondering if she would love the real  _ Eliza  _ as much as she loved the one on the page. 

Doubtful. 

She made herself put the letter away, knowing wine drunk and love were a bad combination for letter writing, and penned the response the next evening instead, and then fell asleep dreaming of some unknown face traced out in pen. 

The following Thursday, just 3 weeks until Christmas, she finally saw Clarke again. The memory of their shared moment in the bathroom, which Lexa was about 87% sure she had not misread, and  _ Eliza’s  _ advice sat alongside each other in her mind as she stared at the door to her office, waiting for Clarke to show up for their meeting. She was already 3 minutes late, but Lexa wasn’t letting it bother her. She was cool, she was calm. She was letting her be a free spirit. 

Or whatever. 

She was actually fuming, but she wouldn’t let Clarke see that. 

At 6 past, Clarke walked in, passing only an awkward hello before demanding they get started. Lexa was taken aback. 

“Well, I was hoping to discuss your most recent portfolio, I think-” 

“Yeah yeah, too much here or not enough there, got it. Just circle what you want me to change and I’ll work on it.” 

“Well, actually I was-”

Clarke’s expression was stony, unyielding and impossible to read, but Lexa knew what it meant. Whatever had transpired in the bathroom, the moment had passed for Clarke. 

SHe wanted to let it go. She had let it go. She let Clarke storm out of her office, she was letting it go. 

Until she wasn’t, and she was chasing Clarke down the hall, preparing to demand an answer, or an explanation. 

Instead, she got a chest full of hot coffee as she ran directly into Clarke coming from a different hallway with coffee in hand. 

They both leapt back, swearing and apologising at once. Lexa fused with her shirt for about 3 seconds before declaring it hopeless and then looked up, as Clarke was bringing down her arm which had been raised high above them, a letter clasped safely away from the coffee in its grasp. 

A letter in an envelope covered in watercolor ivy, sealed with gold wax. 

_ No.  _

Clarke said something, but Lexa barely heard it, and she turned to run before Clarke could try again. She felt like she was on autopilot. She walked to her boss’s office, told her she needed a personal day, collected her bags, and called an Uber home, barely even cognisant of the process. She let her door slam shut behind her as she dropped her bags to the ground, stripping her clothes off as she walked towards her shower, her mind racing. 

She had assumed she would never find out. She had gone through life knowing that this person would always be a secret to her. And yet, she had loved her anyway. 

And then, like some cosmic joke, it turns out that the woman she loved was also Clarke Griffin. 

Clarke Griffin, who got under her skin and made her so mad she could spit at least once a week lately. Clarke Griffin who obviously thought the same of her, based on the overheard conversation in the bathroom. 

Clarke Griffin, whose eyes were like sapphires, whose blonde hair always caught the light. 

Clarke Griffin, who had shared her breath as her gentle hands tended to the tender skin on her bruised face. 

Clarke Griffin, who she was certain had almost kissed her before Costia had shown up. 

She flopped down on her bed, letting out a groan, and then she did the only thing she could think of. 

She called Anya. 

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” She asked, in lieu of a greeting, and Lexa didn’t bother answering. 

“I have a predicament.” 

“Don’t you always?” 

“Shut up this is serious.” Anya let out an irritated huff, but didn’t say anything, so Lexa launched into her story. When she was done, Anya was silent for a moment, and then took a deep breath. 

“Okay, I’m gonna be straight with you. I don’t think you’re in as much of a predicament as you think you are.”

“What?! I literally hate the person I’m in love with Anya, how is that not a predicament.” 

“Do you actually  _ know  _ her?” 

“Of course I do, we’ve been writing to each other for years.”

“No, I mean, have you actually tried to get to know Clarke in real life.” 

“Well I- I mean I-“

“Exactly. You love this version of her from your letters, but you’ve never given the real person a chance. You don’t know if you love her or hate her or anything because you haven’t actually tried to get to know her.” 

“Well she’s a complete asshole so that’s not really my fault.” 

“I mean I’m sure she is, but you’re not alway a peach yourself.”

“Hey!” 

“It’s true, you can be… abrasive.”

“Wow, and I thought we were friends.” 

“We are, but you know I’m right. She probably isn’t your biggest fan either.” 

“So what do I do?” 

“Whatever you think is right. Tell her, for sure, but how you go from there is up to you.”

“When I called you for advice, I hoped for something more than ‘do what you want’ ya know.” She could picture Anya rolling her eyes at her as she said it. 

“Listen advice is one thing, but I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life.” 

“Fine.” 

They hung up, and Lexa stayed flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom. Anya was right, as usual. The more she thought about it, the more confusing it became. She technically knew more about Clarke than she did about most people she knew in real life. She knew everything from her 6th grade crushes name to her family trauma to her favourite songs to what her biggest dreams were. She  _ knew  _ her, intrinsically, instinctually. And yet, looking at her, she was a stranger. An adversary. How could she love someone, and know someone, and yet not know them at all? It was all very confusing, and her head was starting to hurt. 

She waited for the next week, avoiding seeing Clarke in the halls, until the response to her latest letter arrived in the mail, the all familiar curling pen strokes taking on new life as she imagined Clarke writing them. The looping curl of her ‘y’ suddenly felt more intimate, knowing the hand that drew it, the slope of her signature suddenly more of a taunt than a comfort, knowing the real name that could have been signed there instead. She read the letter twice, and then plucked up the courage, sat down with her pen, and started to write. 

_ Clarke,  _

_ I saw my letter in your hand, when I spilled coffee on you. Or did you spill it on me? I can’t remember at this point, because all I’ve been able to think about is you. About Eliza, and what it means for you to be her.  _

_ I love her. Eliza. This version of you you’ve built for me, just for me, in all these wonderful years we have been writing to one another. I fell in love with her. With you, I suppose. With your advice. Your music. Your stories. The way the page always smells a little like your perfume. I spent years wondering what you were like, in real life, never daring to ask for more for fear of pushing you away.  _

_ And then, you almost kissed me in that bathroom, and suddenly you, the real you, became something.  _

_ And then you became one and the same.  _

_ I love Eliza, and I think I could love Clarke too, if we gave each other a chance.  _

_ I hope you’re not disappointed that it’s me. I hope this isn’t the last letter we write to each other.  _

_ All my love,  _

_ Lexa. Alycia.  _

_ Me.  _

She folded it up and slipped it into the envelope before she could stop herself, and tucked it into her bag. She left early for another boxing session, and arrived at the office early, but she kept the letter tucked away until she was ready to leave for the day. After she collected her bag, she stood by the sales floor, waiting to be sure Clarke had left her desk so she could drop the letter unseen, and then she raced out the door and went home, her heart beating out of her chest. 

The next week, the office was closed, and Lexa was more thankful to be bored at home than she had ever been. No chance of running into Clarke in the hallway if they weren’t in the office. 

However, she was dreading the office christmas party, which was mandatory for all employees to attend, for that exact reason. 

When the day finally came, she felt sick to her stomach all day and didn’t eat a thing. The idea of seeing Clarke, over a week after she revealed herself as  _ Alycia _ , was positively terrifying, if she was being honest. Her hand was shaking so much she eventually just scrapped the bold red lip she had been planning, settling for some lip gloss, because red lipstick didn’t look so nice if it was all over your face. She stared at herself in the mirror for a minute after getting ready. 

She looked good. She knew that. Her long brown hair fell perfectly over her shoulder, her navy blue dress clung to every curve, her eyeliner was flawless… and she had never been more nervous for a stupid party in her entire life. 

She had a shot of tequila in her apartment before the uber she had called arrived, to settle herself. She wasn’t sure if it actually helped, but she made it out the door. 

The party was in full swing by the time she arrived, and she thanked the gods for it as she slipped through to the back, grabbing some hors d'oeuvres and a glass of champagne and trying to spot Raven in the crowd. The night wore on and there was nary a blonde penpal in sight, and Lexa was finally starting to relax. A couple of glasses of champagne, some good conversation, some light dancing, the night was turning out to be a nicer one than she had imagined. 

So when she was heading towards the bathrooms and came face to face with Clarke, she was most certainly unprepared, and definitely just turned on the spot and ran in the other direction. She heard Clarke calling her name, but she just kept walking, kept moving, kept walking, kept-

Without warning, Clarke grabbed her by the arm, pulling her around and down into a kiss. 

Her lips were soft, and tasted like cherry chapstick, and Lexa was floundering in the moment. She finally let her hands fall, finding Clarke’s waist and pulling her in. Clarke opened her lips a little, and Lexa followed, letting Clarke trace across her teeth lightly with her tongue before biting at her bottom lip just a little. Her hands found her brown tresses, scrapping lightly against her scalp causing her to shudder as they just kept kissing, an electric moment fueled by years of waiting. When they finally pulled away, Clarke kept a grip on Lexa’s arm. 

“ _ Alycia.”  _ She said the name with a reverence that Lexa could feel in her stomach, finding its home in her body, safe and warm. 

“Are you-” 

Clarke cut her off again with another kiss, and Lexa pulled her in close, holding onto her for everything she had. When she pulled back, their breath came in unison, their noses brushing. Instead of saying anything, Clarke just handed her a letter. 

“You can open it now.” Lexa nodded, her hands shaking as she tore open the envelope and unfolded the page. The perfume smell she loved was stronger with Clarke right there, and she leaned into her touch a little more. The letter was brief, but Lexa felt like she was floating. 

_ Lexa,  _

_ I have loved Alycia as long as I can remember. I think I could love Lexa too, if we gave it a chance.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Clarke _


End file.
